


the forgotten and the forsaken

by Isiybelle



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Mentions of Myth & Folklore, basically gods/demons/supernatural things are parasites, oneshots and drabbles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-04-23 13:22:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 5,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14333340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isiybelle/pseuds/Isiybelle
Summary: "Be careful, Luffy," Makino would chide, fearing for him every time he stared into the sea too long. Her hands would shake as she dried the seawater from his skin and wiped the sand from his feet, "If you aren’t careful, the sea gods will take you."basically just a series of au oneshots/drabbles that will be updated sporadically and in no particular order





	1. it starts with the sea

**Author's Note:**

> I do no own One Piece.

Luffy had always belonged to the sea. Even before Shanks had arrived with a hat and a promise and a dream larger than anything Luffy could have ever imagined before, there had always been the sea. Makino would tell him stories of the mysteries of the water, of mermaids with scales like sunsets and selkies who shed their skin to revel on land. She would tuck him into bed and whisper to him about the nimble water spirits who would dance across the waves or the sprites that would sing songs to sailors willing to listen. Makino, the woman who raised him as her own, wove an image of something magnificent into his young mind. To Luffy, there was nothing except the oceans.

With Shanks came a different view. Whereas Makino’s tales were of the secretive treasures of the sea, Shanks warned Luffy of the dangers. _There are beasts in the water_ , the man would divulge, _Kings of the sea who gobble boys like you whole_. He was told of monsters that roamed just beneath the surface who could dwarf islands and ghosts trapped to their vessels for eternity. _Some souls are lost at sea, Luffy, and never escape_. Shanks had presented these stories with an air of caution, a warning. Luffy was young and all too easy to be sucked beneath the waves to never resurface.

But Luffy who had heard the call of the sea all his life only smiled at the danger. He did not fear the _Sea Kings_ or the eternal expanse of the ocean that had claimed so many before him. He did not long to see the shining scales of mermaids or hear the melodic songs of sea sprites. Luffy looked towards the sea and saw _life_. Salt water rushed through his veins, not blood. At seven years old, Luffy knew that he belonged to the ocean even before the hat and the promise. One day, he would walk into the water and never return. The thought did not scare him.

_Be careful, Luffy,_ Makino would chide, fearing for him every time he stared into the sea too long. Her hands would shake as she dried the seawater from his skin and wiped the sand from his feet, _If you aren’t careful, the sea gods will take you_.

There was only one thing Luffy could think of that scared Makino, Shanks, _and_ Ji-ji. Gods. ( _Parasites_ , Woop Slap would spit, _they’ll worm their way in and eat everything inside of you. Once you’re hollowed out, they’ll wear you around like a puppet.)_ Every sunrise was accompanied by a hushed warning about the world, to never love too much, to never devote himself to anything, to never give himself away.

But on nights when the moon lit the sky and smudged shimmers on the sea, Luffy would wade out until the felt the flow and ebb in his bones. _I belong to you_ , he would murmur against the waves. He could almost make out some voice originating from the dark depths, but he never went to meet it.

_Not yet_ , the tide shushed _, not yet_.

But ‘yet’ never came. Devil fruit eaters were banished from the ocean, forbidden from the water. Consuming a devil’s fruit was forsaking the sea lest the unlucky sailor drown. Luffy, who could feel the push and pull of the tide’s edge and the thundering of the waves, could never belong to the sea.

And Shanks (who knew the pull of a god on the blood in his veins and the bones in his skin and every last hair on his body) could only give the boy his condolences.


	2. wild gods, forgotten and clinging to life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They watched as lightning caught fire to the jungle green and burned away trees, roots and all. Fire could create and destroy in equal measures, a divine feat. These were gods to worship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own One Piece.

Luffy comes to live atop a mountain, in a dilapidated hut teeming with bandits who care little for him. He meets Ace who despises him. He meets Sabo who is cautious of him. He meets Porchemy who once upon a time fell into the sea and almost lost himself to the heartbeat of the water before pulling himself out with a newfound fear of the monsters of the deep. It takes pain and blood to befriend the two boys, but even the salt of the sea sometimes stung. That kind of pain Luffy could understand.

He gains two friends who become brothers through the midst of twisted jungle paths, animal gods grown fat and tall off prayers and offerings, and storms so violent that the ancient trees would fly through the air as nimbly as leaves. He has been raised on sandy shores his whole life, but he learns the jungle quickly. The footpaths the three follow constantly change, moved by the magic and mystic of the animal gods. Sometimes the trip from Grey Terminal to Dadan’s hut will take minutes, sometimes days. After wandering for a week through the circling paths determined to hinder their progress, Dadan leaves them at the steps of an ancient mountain shrine with instructions to pray for guidance.

Luffy knew shrines. He knew the act of offering to something _other_ in hopes of good fortune in return. Back in Fuusha, ocean shrines were plentiful due to the nature of it being a port town. There were the withered stone carvings that had stood on the beaches for generation after generation. Most families had a more personal shrine, one decorated with wild flowers and bits of fruit and the ghosts of generations past. The sailors, only docking a day or two, would buy strands of beads or carve figures out of wood to toss into the waves before setting sail. Luffy knew every crack and crevice on every shrine in Fuusha, but these mountain temples were different.

The long-lost people of the mountain did not worship the sea because it was too far away to do anything for them. Instead, they had prayed to the volatile storms that raged the mountain range. They watched as lightning caught fire to the jungle green and burned away trees, roots and all. Fire could create and destroy in equal measures, a divine feat. These were gods to worship.

There is something to be said for wild gods, though. Named gods and demons at least are known. They are, in a way, domesticated. After so long spent in the middle of humanity, _other_ things with names settled. Natural gods, though, beings that stemmed not from belief alone but from wonder of the natural world were unknown, _untamed and ferocious_. Fire was one such entity. The sea, even with the numerous monsters and spirits drowning in its depths, sat on the precipice of wild and tamed.

Luffy, who still felt the flowing tide in his blood and the music of crashing waves, could tell the exact moment his brothers were claimed by those wild gods. Having grown up with one foot on land and one foot soaking with salt water, Luffy couldn’t remember when the ocean had first started to call to him, had first claimed him. Sitting before the elder shrines covered in thick moss with nary an offering in sight, Luffy could almost _feel_ a fierce presence pass over him to his brothers. He could see their shoulders tremble at the weight of being observed.

Luffy has only known the blessings of the sea, therefore he doesn’t know how the pull of fire can feel. The ocean cast its lure and caught Luffy long ago, even if he cannot be reeled in. Fire, though, cannot cast a line or plant a trail. Fire consumes.

The three leave, dazed and confused in the case of Ace and Sabo. The jungle paths part for them how the water once parted for Luffy on their return to Dadan. She lets them stay in the hut for the night, but Luffy thinks he will be the only one asleep. In the dark, his brothers slip away like he knew they would and don’t return for a week. It is a relatively short time to commune with a being like that. Luffy had whispered devotion to his reflection on the sea ever since he knew the words, but perhaps fire was different from the calm eternity and infinity of the sea. He didn’t know, nor did he care for rogue fire gods, forgotten and clinging to life.

A week later, though, Ace and Sabo return to the hut only to be met with Dadan complaining about leaving Luffy with her when she had better things to do. They sprint off into the jungle before they can be saddled with chores and they never once get lost. In a clearing, his older brothers share a glance with each other before telling Luffy they want to show him their new ‘trick.’

(His mind tickles with Woop Slap’s words about parasites and puppets as Ace and Sabo set things alight to watch them burn. He can see the entire island burning in their eyes as they watch the flames, even if they extinguish their fires when they are young.

_They’ll hollow you out and wear you around like a puppet._

Luffy cheers at their powers even as he thinks about how very long they were gone.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and there is chapter 2 of this series. Hope you enjoyed and if you did, feel free to leave a comment. They are greatly appreciated :D


	3. the price of calling on demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three weeks and he can taste death, can feel it on his tongue. 'I’m not going to last,' he thinks and the demon twists in his gut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back once more! This is actually a double update since the next chapter is unbearably short. Again, I do not own One Piece.

The demon writhes just beneath his breastbone like a confined serpent. He can feel it slither just beneath his skin, searching for some way out. Demons were not meant to be caged like he is, strung up to die like some sideshow for the marines. Three weeks and he can taste death, can feel it on his tongue. _I’m not going to last_ , he thinks and the demon twists in his gut. It squirms below the surface, readying to release itself as he inches closer and closer to the void. It will free itself before he dies, will absorb whatever trace of life his husk of a body has left before ripping him apart and departing for the spirit world to await some other poor soul desperate enough to call upon it.

After so many years, Asura is fond of him, but the demon will not hesitate to destroy him when it comes down to it. That is the price of calling on demons, of calling on gods or mystic powers. They don’t care for their host, only the skin they wear. If they don’t find the body they inhabit suitable, then it becomes an easy meal. The _other_ things feast on human flesh. Zoro will be no different. Asura will tear him apart and swallow him whole to satisfy their deal. He was weak, was unable to achieve his ambition even with the help of a goddamn _devil_ inside of him. He would be eaten and all that was once Zoro, who had dreamed of being _great_ , would falter and fall.

Zoro would be forgotten and dust.

He spares a thought to Kuina, an unspoken apology for not fulfilling his promise. He’d dedicated his life to his swords. His wounds had dribbled blood and his body had poured sweat for that promise. He’d never thought to move on, to drop that dream they had shared in the secrecy of the dark. He’d given his life for it. He’d given his soul. He had stood firm and tall as Asura had scraped away at himself until there was just enough room for it to weasel in.

He hangs his head in silent shame for a lost (sister/life/demon) goal. And as the sun beams down to burn him, to dry his throat, he notices he has visitors. He commands them to scram, but as they continue to defy him, he locks eyes with the dark haired one.

He smells the salt in the air and tastes the sea in his throat and thinks of deals with devils.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there you have it, chapter three in the bag! Hope you liked it and there is more to come.


	4. it looks like a parasite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It looks like a disease. It looks like a parasite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the reason I decided to double post. This chapter is so short I would have felt especially terrible if all I gave you was this, so here is the second part of the update. Once again, I do not own One Piece.

Luffy can see it. Not with his eyes which only see a proud man hanging to life by his fingernails. Luffy can _see_ it in the way he used to be able to look into the ocean and _see_ life. The demon squirms in Zoro’s gut, a writhing black mass that moves like a snake coiled around itself. It looks like a disease. It looks like a parasite.

But Zoro speaks and Luffy hears no _other_ in his voice. Only a man. A man who has clearly accepted that his due with the devil will come early. But he isn’t evil, isn’t some raving beast of war and blood like how he’d always imagined a host of war to be. He has seen evil and beasts and monsters. He remembers the nothing-fear in Porchemy and the broken-glass lifelessness in Bluejam. No, Zoro is no monster even if he houses one.

And Zoro who sold his soul twice already (once to a promise and once to a devil), sells it a third time to a boy in a straw hat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished! With chapter 4 at least. I hope you enjoyed and appreciate all comments :D


	5. extinguished or eaten?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Is Sabo dead," he quietly whispers to the water, almost like he used to whisper his devotion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more, I do not own One Piece.

Sabo's fire dies at sea because a dragon ate him.

That is what Luffy understands from the explanations of Sabo's disappearance. It is ridiculous. Dragons are monsters of fire; therefore they worship the fire gods, even wild ones. A dragon wouldn't attack Sabo.

But Sabo doesn't come back and Luffy doesn't know how to find dragons because Ace is the fire one between them, but Luffy once belonged to the ocean and can still feel the lingering tide in his bones. He walks to the shoreline one day like he hasn't done since Ji-ji brought him to the bandits in the first place. Being so close to the water feels like coming home in a way the treehouse never did. He can almost hear the ocean hiss  _welcome back_.

He asks the sea if Sabo fell in and extinguished himself, his cold body settled on the ocean floor. He gets no response, so he asks if the sea has seen the dragon that ate Sabo. He waits but hears nothing in return. Frustrated, he shouts at the water's edge, disgruntled at being forsaken. It wasn't long ago that the waves had crashed against themselves to grant his wishes. He fumes for a while before ultimately sitting on the sand. He sits all day in quiet contemplation before voicing the question that has haunted him ever since Dogra stormed to the hut with the news.  _Is Sabo dead_ , he quietly whispers to the water, almost like he used to whisper his devotion.

He gets no response.

Luffy lays on the green summer grass atop the cliff and cries. He weeps for a lost brother, gone by dragon or by sea he will never know. He weeps for a god (the tide in his veins and the salt on his skin and the forever pull he'd always known) forsaken. He had felt pain before, but that was sea salt pain. It was the kind of hurt that rubbed wounds raw so they wouldn't fester, so that better things would come. This loss is new, a gaping and void-like pain that he doesn't know how to heal. Once he would have poured the ocean into it, as vast and eternal and utterly endless as it is, surely the sea would have filled it. Now, by himself and removed from the loving gaze of the water, Luffy feels alone in the world.

It is a new feeling. One he does not like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another chapter that i hope you enjoyed! I will see you again next week


	6. fear of forgetting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He thinks on that surety that came from having something so powerful at his beck and call.  
> He fears one day forgetting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I am back with another update. It's been a while, but things have been hectic on my side and I did warn you that updates would be sporadic. Anyway, on with the story. I do not own One Piece.

Ace leaves as his body turns seventeen. (His soul is much older, older than the island and the ancient trees that grow upon it, older than mankind, older than time.) The fire behind his eyes would never be satisfied staying on a single sliver of land, especially a land that had forgotten it ( _forsaken it)_. Luffy who had spent most of his life looking into the fire and knowing only the comforts of a brother, is sad to see him go. He can remember a time before brothers, a time when the deep blue had been the only thing that mattered (a time of gentle godly caresses and soft, loving whispers in the waves). Seven years, though, have been devoted to Ace ( _and Sabo)_. It isn’t something that he can worship or give himself to. Brotherhood doesn’t work like that. And as Luffy desperately wishes Ace would stay (trying not to think about how this departure _feels_ like seven years, stood before the sea and a horrible reality on the horizon).

 But it must be. Luffy (who once knew the pull of a god on the blood in his veins and the bones in his skin and every hair on his body) knows better than anyone. That wild that strokes the flames in Ace’s soul cannot be tamed or tempered. If Ace stayed, then that sight he’d caught a glimpse of when his brother had first been consumed would come true. The island would burn.

So Ace sails and Luffy cheers while hoping that neither a sea nor a dragon decide to swallow Ace like they had Sabo. He doesn’t pray for him. He has no god to pray to. He is _forsaken_. But he hopes with all the will in his body that he sees his brother again.

That night, in the treehouse cold without the heat Ace had always emitted, he wonders if he could have made it to even fourteen if he had still belonged to the waters. He wonders if the sea would have swept him away by then. It is a thought he had prevented himself from thinking before, fearful of what the answer might be. Ace had described the will of fire to be comfortingly warm and devastatingly burning all at once, a flicker in his soul that told him where to go. Luffy, who hadn’t felt the sea in seven years, remembers that ebb and flow that had once dictated his every move. He thinks on that surety that came from having something so powerful at his beck and call.

He fears one day forgetting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter and stay tuned for the next one.


	7. tingle of magic at his fingertips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Magic,' Usopp would breathe, wonder and awe and absolute admiration saturating his young voice.  
> 'Magic,' Bacchina would confirm, a smile on her lips and a crinkle to her face and deep worry to her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm back and at it! :D  
> Anyway, just to remind everyone that I do NOT own One Piece

Usopp had always felt the tingle of magic at his fingertips. As a boy, it would buzz and shock, turning his hair into a mess of frizz and curls. His mother, who hadn’t a lick of _other_ in her, would laugh at every little blitz or flash, brushing his hair back into some sense of order, whispering about his father. _He is a pirate_ , her brush tugging against his hair, _he arrived with the wind and swept me away._

_Magic_ , Usopp would breathe, wonder and awe and absolute admiration saturating his young voice.

_Magic_ , Bacchina would confirm, a smile on her lips and a crinkle to her face and deep worry to her eyes.

There are no _others_ in his village, nothing save the average, _normal_ human. Sometimes, in a time before disease and darkness and death, he would pretend that he was the only warlock in the world, that he was special and unique and greater than anyone! ( _Sometimes in the same moments, he would pretend that he was average like all the others, that he was no different from the other children who laughed at his clumsiness and ran in terror from his mag-)_

His mother dies, a disease that his scant powers can do nothing against. He stays by her side and cries and cries and cries until both his tears and magic are drained. He ignores the colorful splotches on his clothing from where his tears fell, soaked in salt and mystic. Instead, he goes on with life, to one day meet his father ( _the warlock who arrived with the wind and swept his mother away_ ). His island lost its shine when he lost his mother, but he is too cowardly to leave. Trading vessels come and go and Usopp stays grounded. Stories come of _others_ with power greater (and oh so similar) to his, yet Usopp hesitates on the docks.

His mother used to lecture about places of parting. A presence settles over such places that is felt by all, not just warlocks or demons or gods. She used to say that feeling had welled up within her that day on the beach with the sun on her face and the wind in her hair and a pirate vessel headed her way. Usopp can grasp at it every time he walks the same shores, can feel it playing the strings of _other_ in him like a fine instrument, gripping them in the same moment like he is puppet. But he is a coward, he cannot bring himself to set foot on a boat to taste the salt of the blue desert.

(He tells himself this after he turns away from the port, refusing to admit that the _presence_ his mother had spoken of had tugged on his strings like a leash.

He preferred to think of himself as a coward, free to his own whims, rather than a slave to his magic.)

So he ignores the docks and the ports. He ignores the tug and the pull. He can even bring himself to ignore his magic until he nearly convinces himself that he just has a bit of good luck or a knack at things. He is Usopp and he is a coward and his father was just a man who arrived with the wind and swept his mother away. So he plays pirate, he recruits the kids to be his crew. He throws the village into disarray every morning so that they look at him with scowls instead of pity. And everything is _almost_ normal…

But then there is Kaya.

(Kaya who is alone in a world/town/house too large for her. Who is weak with illness with smudges of blue and purple beneath her eyes and a chronic cough that can squeeze his stomach. Who is gentle, kind, compassionate, _just like his mother used to be to him and how long has it been since anyone had smiled at him like that?_ )

And Kaya decides that magic isn’t scary, or strange, or _wrong_.

Kaya decides that she _likes magic_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! See you next time :D


	8. to pass on his mantle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Shanks ever laid eyes on Roger, he knew that he wasn’t looking at a human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, it's me again. I dished this out the other day and deemed it decent enough to post. So here you go!  
> Also I don't own One Piece.

The first time Shanks ever laid eyes on Roger, he knew that he wasn’t looking at a human. Sometimes it was hard to tell, sometimes the _others_ hid themselves by burrowing deeper into their host, dormant for the most part. _Others_ did not tend to enjoy interacting with humans. Demons sought food while spirits sought emotion. Gods… who knew what they wanted. All of them, though, saw mankind as tools to use, to bite at and cling to.

When Shanks laid eyes on Roger, he knew that he wasn’t looking at a human. This was a god.

He could taste it, sea salt on his tongue (too thick to be natural, too thick it was _choking_ ). He could hear it, the roaring of the ocean (pounding against his eardrums like a hellbeast, reined in by a very mortal leash). He could even _see_ it, the way the waves would rise and fall with his motions, the way his laugh was like crashing tides, the way his dark eyes held every ounce of the salty sea in them. This wasn’t a man, this was a man _consumed_.

And Shanks had shaken his (its) hand anyway and joined the crew.

He signed his soul to a pirate crew and told himself it was the right choice. Despite Rayleigh’s grieving eyes (too dark for a soul, too dark for a life), despite fairytale warnings he could remember ( _and the prince allowed the_ other _to possess him and he was_ consumed), despite the way Roger’s ocean-eyes would watch him with a considering expression (like he was a curiosity, like he was special, like he was _next_ ), Shanks swabbed the deck and labored around the ship to prove his worth.

One day Rayleigh approached him. (The same day that Rogers had given him his hat, asking if he accepted the gift and then smiling victoriously when he did. Shanks had dismissed the terror in his stomach, the feeling of a predator watching for a meal, the feeling of something larger than he could imagine looming over him.)

Rayleigh (with dark eyes, too dark, are they voids?) approached him as the sun set, shadows playing over his face and Shanks almost thought that they were moving on their own. The first mate looked him over, resigned and judgmental all at once (so unlike the welcoming and cheery attitude he’d displayed earlier).

“Roger is dying,” he said, and the world stopped and the snaking shadows paused and Shanks felt like this wasn’t something he should be hearing, “He’s looking to pass on his mantle.”

(Considering glances from eyes dark like ocean depths. A gift that had felt like signing his soul away. The way Roger _laughed_ and caused tsunamis.)

“He’s looking at you.”

(The next day Shanks takes a moment to feel, to _really_ feel, the air around Roger. His mother used to tell him that when a god desired something, they pulled it in slowly, like a fishing lure, like gravity, because gods had eternity settled in their palms to wait out their prey.)

(Shanks stops, closes his eyes, and tries to notice that gravity.)

( _He will never forget the_ _pull of a god on the blood in his veins and the bones in his skin and every last hair on his body_.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks! I'll see you again next time :D


	9. all he has left are embers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He shivers when he tries to remember, and he has to assure the polite crew members that his skin is not cold, it is his soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back once more with an update! Hope you enjoy and remember that I do not own One Piece. Also, a big thanks to everyone who has liked, followed, or reviewed this story! :D

All he knows is his name. He is Sabo. He has blond hair and blue eyes. His hat is precious and his bandages itch. He knows little else, save for a feeling he dare not voice. Not to Dragon who stoically stares across the sea as if all the answers he seeks are out there. Not Iva whose flamboyancy never ceases to amuse him. Not even Kuma whose silence and soft-spoken nature is sometimes a balm to the noise that pounds in his head when he sits on deck. He has this sense, this feeling that grabs hold of his guts and _twists_. He feels…

Confined.

The walls are closing in on him, every rock of the boat is the potential to be crushed, to be suffocated. It takes him a while to figure out that it is not the walls of the ship he fears, it is his skin. It crawls as gooseflesh raises, a sense of wrongness extending from his toes to the hair atop his head. He feels… he feels too _small_ for his body, as if he is bigger and grander than the figure in the mirror. His fingers twitch with the sense of _missing_. It is the strangest juxtaposition of ‘too much’ and ‘too little’ that wars within him. The sailors laugh at his seasickness and pat his back and he thanks them even as he feels his skin stretch another inch over what is inside him even as he lists with the uncomfortable lightness of containing too little.

He feels as though half of his soul has left him. Perhaps it has.

Iva tells him he was found in the East Blue. He cannot remember the ‘East Blue’ he was found in. But when he pauses to concentrate, to _try_ to remember, he is struck by disjointed memories.

The almost good ( _there is laughter on his tongue and the sense of being_ complete _and he thinks of bonfires and warmth and-)_

And the bad ( _there is hunger he is starved and splitting he has been_ forgotten _and he waits and waits and there is **hunger**_ ).

He shivers when he tries to remember, and he has to assure the polite crewmembers that his skin is not cold, it is his soul.

Dragon tells him he found him in a burning blaze.

(He feels as though half his soul has left him. Perhaps it has.)

Dragon tells him he was rescued from scorching flames.

(All he has left are embers.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for now everyone! See you soon!


	10. too-charred hunk of god flesh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ace and Sabo would always berate him for getting too close while the god-soul had still writhed violently inside the charring hunk of flesh. It had always made the fire turn pretty colors when it finally died and sunk into the flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I be back from the dead!!!  
> Anyway, I don't own One Piece but that would be awesome :D

It is peaceful on deck. It is so rarely peaceful since he left.

Luffy has met many strange people, been many strange places since he left his island. The Merry still rocks in East Blue waters, but Nami assures them that will not last much longer.

Zoro is sleeping against the railing and Luffy debates whether or not to wake him. He decides against it because his first mate has a demon in his gut that eats his insides when he is still too long. There are nights when Zoro never touches his cot, training on deck to appease his tenant. Luffy lets him sleep.

Usopp is fishing but Luffy keeps his distance because the sniper’s curls are frizzing and snapping, flashes of dormant magic bubbling up as Usopp concentrates on his pole. Luffy has been victim to those sparks more often than not, and while they sting very little, especially to his rubbery skin, he dislikes the numbness his fingers start to grow after being stung too many times.

Nami is tending her mikan and Luffy knows better than to bother her. When Nami is mad there are static charges and changes in atmosphere. The navigator may be peaceful now with the clear skies above, but Luffy would rather not risk a sudden storm driving them all inside where there is _less_ to do.

Instead, Luffy heads towards the kitchen. When all else fails, seek food. Indeed, Sanji’s cooking drifts through the door, stirring up the reminder of his ever-present hunger. The cook is the most recent addition to the crew, but he has quickly learned of his captain’s appetite. Luffy supposes that is his curse for all those hunting trips on Dawn Island. He and his brothers feasted on animal god flesh so often, he isn’t sure his hunger can ever be sated. He’d never found the meat to be anything special, just muscle and fat like all creatures. Dadan and the bandits had never been able to stomach the meat, but Ace and Sabo had thrived on it.

(He thinks it must be the god inside of them. Fire consumes and what better fuel than the divine kind?)

He still has faint scars on his arms from where the fat had popped and sizzled above his brother’s flames, sparks of color and ozone smell and lingering pain trailing across his knuckles. Ace and Sabo would always berate him for getting too close while the god-soul had still writhed violently inside the charring hunk of flesh. It had always made the fire turn pretty colors when it finally died and sunk into the flames.

Of course, Sanji’s food tastes a thousand times better than any too-charred chunk of god flesh. The best part, though, is that even though his cook will berate him and shout about his void of a stomach, the blond will always bring over a plate of something or the other after a few minutes. Then he’ll grumble about hoping to shut his rubber idiot of a captain up until dinner, but Luffy smiles anyway because it reminds him of Ace.

He misses his brother and the forever warmth and the sparking smirks and the destruction in his eyes, but whenever he runs into his brother again (because he will. They parted three years prior but they were always destined to meet again. It was fact. It was truth. Fate had written it in the sky with blood and tears and dying star souls. One day the sea would have to drift them towards each other because it had been promised) he would have to tell him how bad of a cook he was when they were kids.

And Ace would chase him around with fire in his fists, shouting to the world about his ungrateful brother. And then they would sit down around a campfire like when they were little and Ace would char the meat too much, eat it while the fat still sizzled and Luffy would too even if it grew blisters on his tongue.

They would be gone by morning anyway.

(Luffy could only hope that on that day, his brother wouldn’t be gone by morning, too.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, here I am. Once again. Feeling lost but now and then...
> 
> Haven't posted in quite a while but I hope you all enjoy. :D


	11. stagnant, static, motionless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can still feel that weightless pit in his stomach, under layers of innards and muscles and skin and bandages. He can still feel Asura. But the demon is dormant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone!!!  
> I cannot express how shocked I was with how many people responded after posting the last chapter! Like wow :D
> 
> Anyway, I don't own One Piece but plz enjoy!

There is a moment, standing before that shichibukai in a kingdom of nightmares, that Asura stills.

It is only afterwards (after days of lying in his cot, wrecked with the memories of pain that no amount of sake can relieve) that he even realizes. He hadn’t noticed then, faced with a terrible choice and an unknown outcome before a man they were not ready to face. Asura’s rage had faded in that moment leaving Zoro alone with his decision, with his suffering (his _captain’s_ suffering).

In those days lying in his cot with nothing else to do besides drink, sleep, or think, he remembers that man and that choice. And his decision. He remembers how easy it was to choose, how instinctual.

(He remembers the forever-promise Asura had inscribed on his heart and his ribs and his fleshy insides. A promise he’d made in the dark with a girl and then with a demon and then with a boy. Asura had kept him alive well beyond what he should have lived. Past days of being lost at sea. Past starvation and dehydration and too many bleeding cuts and even Hawkeye’s scar that would have killed a lesser man. A lesser _demon_.

He remembers how easy it was to throw it all away in that moment.)

Asura is quiet in the days after.

Zoro knows because he sleeps. He sleeps for hours, dreamless periods of grogginess that leave him confused. Chopper tells him he slept the day away and Zoro _stares_. He has spent more of his life than not sleeping in short, spastic intervals lead by the demon’s whims. Asura disdains inactivity. Zoro does too.

Sitting still for too long causes his skin to crawl, causes Asura to crawl _under his skin_. He grows restless until finally the demon _jerks_ inside of him, leaving him breathless and nauseous and desperate for movement. It is that feeling of foreign slithering on his guts and bones that keeps him choosing the midnight watch shifts more often than not, that keeps him going when he trains and is dead tired but that tearingtoomuch burn in his muscles is better than the feeling of claws against his lungs.

But he sleeps, nonetheless.

For a _day_ , according to Chopper.

He can still feel that weightless pit in his stomach, under layers of innards and muscles and skin and bandages. He can still feel Asura. But the demon is dormant.

No.

The demon is stagnant. Static. _Motionless_.

Asura is awake and aware but unwilling to much more than simply exist and Zoro feels an ironic sort of resent. What he wouldn’t have given, what he wouldn’t have done to have the hellspawn simply _stop_. Now, the damn serpent beast is quiet and Zoro feels a chilling sense of dread.

There is power in calling on demons, calling on gods or mystic power. There is a price, too, but Zoro pays that every day. The _power_ is the important part, the reason why, what makes the heavy burden worth it. And Zoro has never been ungrateful towards Asura. He has power, has strength and skill that only something _other_ could give him.

And suddenly he doesn’t.

So far, Asura has remained silent. Hopefully as his wounds heal, the pitbeast will come back around. Perhaps their next stop will grant them reprieve.

( _He ignores the dread-chill in his bones at the thought. It isn’t Asura projecting, not when Asura is a dead-nothingness pit in between his stomach and sternum. It is a dread-chill that grapples what parts of him are still human._

_He thinks_ Sabaody _and shivers_.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was ominous...
> 
> Please like and review! Always appreciated :D

**Author's Note:**

> This was just something that's been rolling around in my noggin for a couple days so I wrote some mystic nonsense... then some more mystic nonsense...  
> anyway, don't expect anything too detailed or too long. this is just a series of drabble works in the same au


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